


I'll shine on a faithful few

by vorpatrils



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Rhaella Targaryen Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-11 09:53:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16473311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vorpatrils/pseuds/vorpatrils
Summary: “Men should think twice before making widowhood women's only path to power.”All the men of House Targaryen perish in the flames of Summerhall save a newborn babe.The Regency of Rhaegar, First of His Name begins as Maelys Blackfyre stirs across the Narrow Sea challenging a throne held by the fragile power of Betha Blackwood and her daughters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SecondStarOnTheLeft](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/gifts).



Glass shattered as the fury of the fire burned her kin. The smell of roasting meat drifted to where she strained and screamed and cried. Her grandmother held her right hand,her dark eyes kept squarely on the Maester who poked between her legs. Aunt Rhaelle directed servants who struggled to erect a shelter. Rhaella felt a burning in her nethers such as she had not even felt on her wedding night. She sobbed deeply.  _ Only once Aerys only bedded me once it’s not fair. _

“Mother!  _ Where is my mother - _ ” Rhaella screamed and sobbed again as a pain came over her. A Baratheon servant pulled a canopy over their heads. She moaned in misery. The canopy did nothing to shield her from the smoke or sight of the flames. Her Aunt hovered over her wiping her brow, the tears running down her cheeks quickly brushed away.

“You must push now your highness, hard but steady.” The Maester declared. She gave a half scream half groan at his words and pushed. Grandmother pressed a kiss to her hand, gesturing to her daughter to take her other hand.

“Nearly there, my love, nearly there.” Rhaella gripped the hands of her mother and aunt desperately. They would look after the child when she had perished, ensure no harm came to it.

Another scream and push and her child left her body. There was a breathless moment before the child gave a squawk.

“A son your highness!”

* * *

Rhaelle ripped a strip of cloth from her skirt and tied her hair back hastily.  _ Thank the Gods I did not bring Steffon with me. _ Summerhall had burned fiercely. None of her menfolk had left the castle.  _ Father, Duncan, Maegor, Jaehaerys and young Aerys… _ What had led her father to this madness? Sweet Rhaella was exhausted and could not be moved. As soon as dawn had broken Mother had sent her to see what could be found in the ruins - a chest of Aerys’ clothing had been sent to their makeshift camp. She could find no gown or robe to wrap Rhaella or the babe in.

Already she had ripped her petticoats at the seams to make a blanket for the girl. She was left scrambling about in a red and black dress singed at the skirts, covered in ash. Trying to find anything useful. She could not face her kin's bones, not just yet.

_ Damn the boy for bedding his sister. _ Speaking of sisters - Shaera had escaped the flames with Rhaella. Mother had sent her to a nearby knights keep with guards, her wailing grief no help to her labouring daughters nerves. Dawn would soon break and she had no doubt her sister would arrive with it. She had dogged Jaehaerys' steps since the day she could walk. Shaera would not leave his bones to whiten in the sun.

Gods what would happen to them now? There were no sons of her House left but for the babe.  _ Only Blackfyres now. _ She swallowed the fear down. There would be time to think on that later. Rhaelle stomped out a spark that flew near her. She made no move towards the central courtyard where last she had seen her father and brothers.

She was walking through the guest quarters now. Servants scurried ahead of her to put out embers with sand and water. That one chest of her nephews had escaped being burnt to cinders but she could find no more. The dress Ormund had designed for her, down to the smallest detail was burnt to ash. So too all of her mothers gowns.  _ We must make haste to Storms End. I want my husband’s arms around me. _

There was a commotion and when she turned she saw Shaera dismount and hurry towards her. Rhaelle tamped down the familiar stirring of resentment and steeled herself. By her lights she could not stand her elder sister some days. But it would not do to needle her when she was so recently bereaved. She was not that cruel a woman.

“Jae!” Shaera cried as she rushed towards her, grasping her hands desperately. “Have you found our brother? Have you found my husband?”

Rhaelle clenched her jaw. “Greetings and health to you as well, sister.” She attempted some sympathy, for their mothers sake. “Have you seen Rhaella and the babe yet?” Shaera darted her gaze across the ruins, as if to spy Jaehaerys walking towards them. “No..no we must find Jae first. He will be King now Father is gone.” Rhaelle removed her hands and placed them on her sister’s shoulders.

“Our brothers are dead, Shaera. Duncan and his Jenny, Jaehaerys, Father, your Aerys, even cousin Maegor. Think to your grandson. He is King now.”

Shaera shook her head from side to side, refusing to hear her words. “I will not hear this. I am Queen now and you will not speak such lies. Jae!” She cried again trying to shake off her hands to make her way to the courtyard. Rhaelle gripped harder. 

“Your husband and son are  _ dead _ sister. Look to your daughter and grandson, not Jaehaerys. It is what he would want you to do.”

Shaera shook her off violently. “What would you know? What would you know of love -  _ true love - _ between husband and wife? He would never leave me alone in this world.” 

_ Not all of us marry as we wish! _ She wished to scream.  _ Not all of us may act the fool without consequence! _ But now was not the time. Not when there was a babe to protect. Two babes in truth. Rhaelle took a calming breath. “ _ Go to your child. _ There is nothing you can do here.”

Shaera glared venomously, only to stifle a sob. Rhaelle sighed.

“I will go to mother. Follow soon.”

* * *

A chair and small cot had found their way out of the flames, Betha sat in one and Rhaella was tucked in the other, just beside her, her weary head resting on Rhaelle’s lap.

Betha had had a bellyfull of dragons. Five of them in fact. She had been married to one for nearly forty years, loved and bedded him for the first thirty. But it was not to be borne. She had had  _ enough. _ Her children bedded each other, forced  _ their  _ children to bed down together. Shaera stood trembling in front of her. She would not comfort her elder daughter. Betha  _ could _ not. Not while she held her great-grandson in her arms. 

“All the years I raised you, taught you,  _ loved _ you” She said her voice cold as ice, “And still you would choose yourself and your own selfishness over the good of your kin? Choose a corpse over your own child?”

Her daughter trembled with anger. “She had you and Rhaelle. You have turned her against me and her father -  _ your own son - _ since she was wed.” Betha pursed her lips. “I am her mother and she knows I must act in the realms interest. Does the realm not need a king?”

Rhaelle laughed bitterly. “You? Act in the  _ realms _ interest? It was in the realms interest for Celia Tully to be the poor girls mother.” Her eyes narrowed, a sign Betha knew to mean she meant to hurt. “Perhaps she would have had sisters to play with and brothers to protect her then.”

Shaera opened her mouth to speak but Betha cut her off.

“We will speak no more on this until we return to Kings Landing. Rhaelle has sent word to her lord husband to speed us to Storms End. Gods willing your daughter will survive the journey.” She looked Shaera in the eye. “The birth was hard, daughter, and she may well die or be rendered barren. You had no right to marry her so young. Leave my sight - grieve your husband and son. As I will grieve mine.”

Ormund would arrive soon. A messenger had been sent. Soon they would see what a shambles her beloved had left as his legacy.


	2. Chapter 2

She was bruised and tender in ways and places she didn't know existed a scant year ago. The child had not torn her open to bleed into the soil of Summerhall but he had not left her untouched either. The Maester rubbed his hands together nervously. Grandmother held her right hand, Mother her left.

“You have been damaged your highness. That I cannot deny.” He licked his lips. Rhaella felt a rush of shame and uselessness. House Targaryen all gone but for a babe. She wished she could cry.

“However….with a few years recuperation the damage may well heal itself. It is not unknown, so long as you do not fall pregnant again.”  

Rhaella looked to her grandmother. There was a question on her lips she knew. But their eyes met and she did not ask it. The same could not be said for her own lady mother.

“When? When will she be able to bear another son?” Tears welled at Rhaella’s eyes. _Is that all she thinks me good for?_ Grandmother squeezed her hand.

“When she is ready and not before.” Grandmother said firmly, meeting the Maesters eyes. He nodded vigorously.

“Yes yes. Your Highness is not yet done growing. I would not try again until you have passed adolescence. Yes.” Another nod. “Indeed I would not try again until your majority. Whyever you were bedded so young-” he looked nervously at her mother. “Well King Aegon of blessed memory was a wise man and it is not for me to judge a king.” He cleared his throat. “I would recommend you do not fall pregnant for at least three years. But how sweet it will be for the little prince when you are blessed once more.”

The Maester left leaving directions for her care. Mother had brought him from the castle she sheltered at. By the gods mercy, the knights wife had insisted upon having a maester when she could no longer tend her husbands old battle wounds herself. The knight sworn to House Dondarrion had gladly offered all he could to assist them.

His war tents had been hurried to them - old musty things - along with fresh food and bedding. Aunt Rhaelle and Mother were not speaking. They had quarrelled some while she had slept. That upset her but Grandmother told her to pay it no mind, that it was no more than Mother’s usual temper.

_My son is healthy and that is all that matters_ she thought firmly. _I will have more one day._

The prince in question dozed in Aunt Rhaelle’s arms. A fine healthy boy. Seeing her gaze go to the babe her mother rushed to take him from her. He fussed a little but settled.

“There there Jaehaerys. No fussing for grandmother is there?” Rhaella went numb. _They named him while I was to weak to stay awake?_ She looked to her aunt, a look of betrayal no doubt on her face. Her eyes narrowed. Grandmother’s face had gone still with anger.

“The babe is not yet named sister. Perhaps we should leave it to the mother?” Shaera shot her sister a look of pure venom but smiled at Rhaella.

“But of course he shall be named for your father dear. He shall be Jaehaerys the second of his name, though he should have been the third.”

Her grandmother's grip on her hand tightened. Not in censure or anger. Solidarity.

“No. I will not name him for father.” She glanced at her grandmother. “Nor grandfather either...or Aerys. They were not -” she took a deep breath when a bolt of dull pain went through her belly and settled back onto her cot miserable and weak. “They are not men I would have my son be like. May I hold him a little before I fall asleep again?”

Mother pouted and handed him to her before sniffling and leaving the tent. _Now I shall have to make amends with her._ Rhaella thought wearily. The babe settled in her arms. She looked to her Grandmother.

“Please don’t be angry at mother. She has lost so much.” Her grandmother’s expression tuned sad. “We are the three of us widows now my love. We should not quarrel. And you should not have to excuse your mothers actions.” She lightly touched the babes hair.

“Have you thought up a name yet?”

Rhaella shook her head. “You aren’t upset? That I won’t name him for Grandfather?”

Grandmother shook her head. “I loved my husband for many years. But he broke my heart when he allowed your parents to wed.”

Aunt Rhaelle took her son. “Go to sleep little one. I will hold him a while.” Grandmother kissed her brow and they left for the other tent.

She wished to protest but found no strength to do it with. She settled herself against her pillows and pondered. She could not forgive Father or Grandfather for wedding her to Aerys. He had never been violent towards her but he could be cruel and sweet in equal turns.

He had promised her on their wedding night, as he wiped away her nervous tears, that they would not lie together again until she was old enough to bear a child safely. Father had only wed them so quickly after Jenny had brought her wood witch to court and let her spout that ridiculous prophecy for fear that his mother would intervene.

But her body had betrayed them. From that one night she had gotten with child. Aerys had been furious then, accusing her of deliberately embarrassing him. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She wiped them away. _How thoroughly all my men failed me. If my uncles had wed where grandmother told them -_

She would need to bear another child and soon. There was no one else who could.

She sobbed quietly in the dark.

* * *

 

The babe was quiet. Too quiet for Rhaelle’s liking. Steffon had growled and grumbled near every day of his life until he had learnt to talk. But the boy kept his own counsel. She bit her lip. She had not held a babe since Rhaella. Ormund and she had tried, for years upon years to conceive again after Steffon. But the Maesters could find no explanation for their failure. Nor could they for Shaena, who had birthed two healthy children.

She stood between the two tents. It was warm and there was a slight rain. She could see Shaena, still sniffling, waiting for her horse to be readied. Once, she had always run to her whenever she was sad or troubled. Rhaella walked to her.

“Here sister. Hold him a while. It will ease your heart. Come eat a little with me.”

They entered the second tent - taken from some Lannister knight she supposed, faded yellow and red as it was - and Shaena took the sole chair. Mother was standing, staring into the distance. There was silence as they all ate some little morsel of food. Rhaella’s heart was sorely troubled.

“Mother -” she started, in a small, sad voice “Do you think father would still have done this if we had more children?”

Mother’s eye twitched. She had endured talk at court about such things no doubt. She shook her head. “No Targaryen woman has had more than one or two children with her Targaryen kin in generations. Such was why I did not wed either of you to Maegor, though it was considered.” She stared once more at the wall of the tent. “I should have doubled your guard, sent you to Lord Tully. But I could not bear to, when I had already lost Rhaelle. I was selfish. Look what it has cost us.”

Shaena did not answer mother’s gibe. Rhaella cleared her throat. “Father’s sisters-”

Mother held her hand up to silence her. “ Married lesser houses, had only girls and they all married lesser houses besides. I have thought on this. You must wed again, Shaena and name your children Targaryens. Rhaella is too young.”

Shaena balked, and her grandson fussed. “No! I will not betray my husband’s memory. Are you so heartless you will not let me mourn? You cannot force me!” Mother pursed her lips. “Which of us is Queen? Which of us ruled alongside her husband? You will do what I say and bring peace as you should have done. The Maester’s never could explain why you did not conceive again. The fault may have lain with your brother. You may hold another child in your arms one day.”

“A child younger than my _grandson._ ” Shaera began crying. A thunderbolt clapped overhead startling the babe to join her.

Mother ignored her, staring at the tent wall. Rhaelle sighed.

* * *

 

The tent was dark, cool and musty. Betha willed herself to sleep. Rhaelle had elected to stay with Rhaella and she had no one to talk to and pass time with.  The pale red design on the roof of the tent, bordered with yellow faded white made her think of a heart tree.

She had not seen a true heart tree since that last terrible fight. When Aegon had allowed the babes she had borne him to wed. She had attended the wedding as charming a mother of the bride as could be found. But she had pleaded a headache when it came time for the bedding. How could she stand by and watch as her son gazed lustfully upon his own sister? She had argued against it. The marriage was already consummate. But Aegon had insisted if it must be done it must be done properly.

She had left the very next day. She had not intended to. She had wanted to feel the wind in her hair and ride the coast. But then by nightfall she was too far gone from Kings Landing to return before dawn. She had taken hospitality at an inn giving over a pair of finely made riding gloves for her and her ladies food and board. They had chattered nervously but she slept like the dead in a heart heavy fog. Betha had decided her destination in that fog of dreams. So she had continued for two sennights racing ever further towards the Gods Eye and the Isle of Faces. She needed to be with her gods.

For three days she ate simply and slept below weirwood branches, weary and heartsore.

But Aegon had guessed her destination, arriving by boat just a few days after her. Days of relaxation, little peace and exhaustion brought to an end. She had been furious shouted even cried- she had never cried because of him before - and had at last brought him down to the ground making angry, heartsick love below a hearttree praying to the gods for one last son.

A son who would look like and act nothing like his father just to hurt him all the more. One who would bring back the peace his brothers had shattered. They had not answered her prayers then as she lay crying once more, naked in her husband's arms but for his cloak.

Betha had kissed the skin above his heart for the last time. Kissed his lips. “I loved you. I _loved_  you.” She had whispered, tears in her eyes as he held her in his arms for the last time. Until his dying day she had not allowed him to touch her again. She had taken his hand then, to pull him from the flames which had already taken two of their sons. Aegon had shaken her hand away.

She had loved him. Loved his so much her heart felt fit to burst and he had betrayed her. Softened his heart and set the realm to war destroying the peace they had spent their lives working for.

Why did she mourn him now?


End file.
